Marilyn Zwicker

My kitchen is cluttered
Cookie sheets
Cooling racks
Dozens of little sweets
A reception
Reunion of grief

We do this whenever
Death visits
Set up tables
White tablecloths
Various treats
Carefully arranged
White doilies
Pretty plates 

It’s a glimpse
Into a future
For which I cannot plan
Someday that box
Draped with white linen
Will be my body
Soon to be scattered
Over the hill

A plaque with my name
Will be surrounded
By memorials to friends
Whose ashes mine will join
Others will make and arrange
Funeral meats

Knowing this
I relax into belonging

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